It's the next -to-last day of our week-long celebration of the stories cultivated in the hearts and minds of The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim players! Today's Khajiit tale and tail is brought you you by a reader named Jud.

While Bethesda has done a fine job developing the fiction of the continent of Tamriel, there's …
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Logan was something of a wizened Khajiit. Dark-furred, his pale blue eyes looked out from behind the horned iron helmet. He crouched-moving slowly through the narrow sewer tunnel.

The dank, algae-covered cobblestone made him glad he was wearing boots.

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"By the gods, I wonder what diseases I could catch from here?" he thought, inhaling more unpleasant smells than he could describe.

Rounding the corner, he stumbled back before the Thalmor guard could see him. He drew the bow from his back, carefully taking aim at the wizard across the room. At the top floor of this hub room, his opponent would have a long distance to cover before he could reach him. His first arrow went high, drawing the guard's attention to his hiding spot. Logan ducked back and waited until the elf resumed his post.

His shot connected this time, but the corpse tumbled to the floor below. Two more elves charged up the hallways cursing whoever killed their companion. Logan hid in the entrance hallway, muttering a prayer that they wouldn't find him. As they came into the hallway and drew their weapons, Logan cursed. One charged forward with a sword in one hand and a torch in the other. The other stayed back, firing his bow between the blows his partner inflicted. A few blows knocked Logan back, the pain preventing him from being able to draw his own sword and shield.

A moment is all I need, he thought. He bared his teeth in a grin when he realized the answer.

The two elves brought their weapons to bear, but didn't get the chance to connect.

"FUS RO DAH!" Logan shouted in the narrow corridor. A column of energy seized forward, knocking the archer against a wall. The swordsman received the full brunt of the impact. He flew back against the far wall of the room, then fell two stories to the floor below.

Before the archer could recover, Logan brought his own sword for the kill. Pausing, Logan listened for the swordsman's return. As he carefully made his way down the room's ancillary hallways, he paused, checking for the guard.

At the bottom floor, he saw the missing man. Sprawled on the floor, the man's lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling. He still clutched his lit torch.